


Of Claustrophobia and Closets

by 1lostone



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, M/M, Michonne is not taking anyone's shit, Michonne never takes anyone's shit, PWP, Rickyl, Surprise!fluff, Tight Spaces, lost wrote something that wasn't explicit?!, omg I referred to myself in the third person., prompt fill from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was prompted to me by... er... A  beautiful anon.  They requested:<br/><i>Rickyl- (not established relationship) stuck in an elevator style fic but where they'd find a working elevator is anyone's guess. maybe just stuck in a small space and waiting for others to come get them out? or I guess you could do an au where elevators function normally? I dunno. That's why /I'm/ not gonna write it. Have fun! (please).</i><br/>Heh. That sounds de-<i>light</i>-ful. Here you go, nonny!</p><hr/>
            </blockquote>





	Of Claustrophobia and Closets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jlm121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlm121/gifts).



Daryl could feel Rick’s heart thundering against his own ribcage. They were pressed so tightly together that Daryl was pretty damn sure Rick could feel his, too. 

To say they were fucked was kind of an understatement. It was almost completely dark in the little space, but Daryl could picture everything that had gotten them to this point with his eyes closed. 

It was supposed to have been a cake run: Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne checking out a town for anything they could scavenge. After Terminus, people were scared, and while it felt good to know that the gang was all back together again, that gang still needed to eat. What they’d thought would be a simple run had turned into a clusterfuck almost from the get-go. Why Rick didn’t just say ‘fuck it’ and go back to the house their group was squatting in, Daryl didn’t know. It wasn’t his place to know. He trusted Rick, and when Rick laid out a plan, they rolled with it. 

The hotel would have been nice if the fuckin’ thing hadn’t been overrun. In the old days it would have been smaller than the box-like places that were up by the interstate, but nice. Probably catered to business travellers more than families. Upon arrival, they’d quickly decided to split up. Rick and Daryl were gonna take the kitchen and dining room, and Glenn and Michonne the two floors of rooms. During their walk-thru they could see that there had been an obvious attempt by some of the living to make a home out of it- but why they hadn’t just cleared the place was a damn mystery. Daryl would feel completely justified in chewin’ the ass outta the dumbfuck that had decided to corral a bunch of walkers behind glass doors, but he had the uncomfortable realization that the dumbfuck had probably been the first torn apart once they broke out and figured he’d probably learned his lesson- however short of a lesson it had been. 

With fresh meat after god knew how long, the trapped walkers had been frenzied. They’d ripped through the glass like it had been paper, spilling out into the dining area like shaken soda escaping a bottle. Daryl and Rick had fought while they could- but his crossbow only had so many bolts. Rick had ran out of bullets early, and had resorted to braining one of the undead fuckers with the handle of his Colt, fumbling for a knife that wasn’t there. Daryl had been using a wrench for awhile, but wherever they were coming from, there had been a _lot_ of the damn things, and he and Rick had eventually run for it. 

Which brought them to their current predicament. 

Rick had grabbed Daryl, his strong fingers tight around Daryl’s wrist, and Daryl had followed his lead like he’d always done. Well, mostly always. One thing about the dead was that they weren’t exactly fast, so the two of them had plenty of time to hide. The kitchen door- probably used for deliveries in the old days- had been bolted from the other side. Sealed somehow. Daryl had thrown himself against it twice to try to break it, but the dead were already going through the swinging doors and Rick’s cry of, “Daryl! Here!” had him moving before he even realized what he was moving towards. 

Rick had grabbed his shirts under his vest and hauled him into the cabinet, slamming shut the stainless steel door with the other hand. He’d grabbed the wrench Daryl was still holding and used it to jam the thing so it wouldn’t open, all before Daryl could process much more than the shocking heat of Rick’s body as it pressed up against his own.

Which brought them to now. 

“Well, shit.” 

Daryl snorted a laugh at Rick’s disgusted voice. “Hey, there’s air. And light.” 

“Yeah.” 

At the tone of Rick’s voice, Daryl tilted his head back slightly and opened his eyes. There was only a tiny bit of light filtering through the cracks in the shut door. Daryl could hear the moaning and growls from the walkers outside. A few of them beat against the stainless steel door, which was freaky as hell. Daryl felt his heartbeat increase as he stared at Rick’s gaze only inches from his own. 

Rick’s eyes were bright in the dim light. His face was still covered by the beard, and it was hard to imagine him as clean-shaven. There were several healing bruises from his fight with either the Governor or the cannibalizing little pipsqueak that had tried to kill them all. There was just enough light to see Rick’s lips quirk in a self-deprecating smirk. 

Rick shifted slightly away from him in the scant space and Daryl all at once became agonizingly aware that he was achingly hard. He jumped back, away from Rick’s body, horrified. The sharp spike of pain in his lower back and ass sent him moving instinctively back towards Rick. 

“Aw, shit! Found the canned stuff.” Daryl tried to be quiet but at the sound, the walkers on the other side of their hiding spot increased their racket. Daryl felt like a lobster with the people about to eat him tapping on the glass to get him to move. It was hard not to freeze up again, like the stupid fucks would just wander off lookin’ for a snack somewhere else if they just didn’t make noise.

Rick shifted again, and Daryl winced, trying to angle his pelvis away from Rick’s. _Why_ he was goddamn hard, now of all the goddamn times, with _Rick_ of all the goddamn people was a goddamn mystery. 

Rick bent down slightly so that his lips almost touched Daryl’s ear, speaking lowly so that his words were the barest breath of air. Daryl felt like his entire fuckin’ nervous system had suddenly gone online at once and he fought a violent shiver. 

“It’s okay, Daryl. I ain’t worried.”

Well that was just fine and dandy. _Daryl_ was worried enough for the both of them then. 

“Glenn and Michonne’ll be around in a bit. Heard the gunshots if nothing else.” 

“I bet you're wishin’ Michonne was here instead of me,” Daryl blurted, the awkward words leaving his mouth before his brain gave them explicit permission.

Rick tilted his head, staring at Daryl with a raised eyebrow. “Why d’ya think that?”

Well it certainly hadn’t been _Daryl_ that Rick’d escaped with during their trek from the prison. Not that he was mad or nothin’. Michonne and Rick- well. That’d be good. Good for both of ‘em. It wasn’t like it was any of his business, anyway. He’d just said something dumb without his brain bein’ involved in the process. _Well, balls._ Daryl tried shrugging, but it just made more of his body knock against Rick’s. “Nothin’, man. I didn’t mean nothin’.” He tried to pull away again while mentally shouting at his dick that this was _really_ not the time. 

“Hnmhh.” 

Daryl knew that grunt. That was the Rick Grimes ‘I’m-not-gonna-call-you-on-your-bullshit-but-you’re-full-of-it grunt.’ He used it all the time. Daryl froze when Rick’s hand casually reached out to rest on Daryl’s waist. Daryl had managed to separate them so that there was at least an inch of space between their bodies, but it called for his ass and spine to be jammed uncomfortably against something metallic and vaguely shelf-shaped. Rick raised his other eyebrow and Daryl would have sworn that Rick was smiling at him for just a second.

Rick bent his head forward again and spoke in the same low drawl that Daryl absolutely didn’t find hot as hell. No sir. He did not. Nooope. “I’d normally let somethin’ like that go, but we have all sorts of time til they find us.”

For one brief, hysterical moment, Daryl wasn’t sure if ‘they’ referred to the walkers outside their hiding place or Glenn and Michonne. 

“Michonne and I are close. Very close. Seein’ her after everything at the prison went to shit was one of the best moments I can remember.” Rick’s thumb managed to find the hole in Daryl’s shirt and wiggled through. The feel of Rick touching his skin made Daryl gulp, hard. “I’m lucky enough to have two right hands Daryl. Michonne? Yeah. She’s one. But you’re the other, and seein’ that you were alive, in the woods when you told those bastards to let us go was.” His whisper got even softer. “ _Is_ important to me, man.” 

Daryl felt warm for all sorts of reasons. He often dreamt of that night, if he was honest with himself. Not what someone would expect; not the scary-as-fuck moments. Daryl didn’t think he’d ever forget the split second of realization that it was _Rick_ that Joe and his Claimers had been huntin’, or ever stop hearin’ the terrified, trapped sound Carl had made when that fat fuck had him pinned, or _ever_ be rid of the guilt that damn near drowned him when he knew that there was not a fuckin’ thing he could do to save either of ‘em, that he was gonna be just as complacent as the rest of ‘em in Rick, Michonne and Carl’s eventual deaths. 

But in his dreams, he moved faster. After doin’ what he done to protect them all, Rick turned to him and Daryl... somehow, the dream version of him knew what to do with all that emotional shit. 

Back in the woods, he’’d managed to clean Rick up, only instead of just talkin’ his brain had them kissing. 

Daryl hadn’t really done much kissing in his life. Furtive handjobs, in alleys, or paid by-the-hour fucks were more his style. It was easier. No intimacy, not really. Not the kind that counted. 

“Hey.” 

Rick’s low voice caused Daryl to jump, and he realized that he’d been staring for way too long at Rick’s mouth like a damn idiot while his stupid mind jumped around like a kid on a hopscotch board.

“I don’t mean to sound like a porno or nuthin’, but--” Rick reached down and cupped the palm of his hand around Daryl’s erection. 

Daryl froze again, not having expected anything of the sort. He’d been trying so ... well. _Hard._ to keep his aroused state from Rick that Rick just taking things in hand (okay obviously he was getting a little hysterical here because Rick Grimes’. Hand. Was cupping. His. Cock.) and his brain couldn’t break free of innuendo. 

“-- I don’t want to fuck anything up between us. This can be just now, and we can never talk about it again if you want---”

Rick turned just slightly and thrust forward enough that Daryl could feel him hard and hot against his leg. Daryl opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“--and shit. _Shit_ , sorry. This is why I never do this.” His face looked horrified in the faint light and it made something in Daryl’s gut jerk with a feeling of _wrong_. “It’s fine, Daryl. It’s nothin’ we don’t ever have to mention it again.” Rick pulled away from him and jerked back, attempting to put space between them when there wasn’t room for any. 

Daryl blinked, telling himself that if he didn’t fix this, he was probably gonna die without another chance to feel Rick again, and no fuckin’ _way_ was that gonna happen. 

“Naw. You ain’t fucked up anything. Just havin’ a little trouble adjusting to the slightly gayer version of ya, is all.” Daryl stepped forward and went for it, stretching forward and brushing his lips against Rick’s.

“It’s not so much ‘gay’ as--- _mmmmph_!” Rick launched himself back into Daryl’s space as though he’d been goosed and Daryl grinned under Rick’s mouth, still a little shocked that he’d had the balls to kiss him. To actually kiss _Rick Grimes_. 

While Daryl was busy congratulating himself, Rick cupped his jaw in both of his hands and moved his head just a little, and _that_ sent Daryl’s body lighting up like a damn switch had been flipped. He moaned, unable to remember why it was such a bad idea to make a sound.

Oh. _Oh_ , so _that_ was what all the fuss was about. Rick’s mouth moved over his, attempting to be gentle at first, but quickly showing that, yeah. He had a lot of experience at this. Daryl was happy enough just to go along for the ride. His hands tightened on Rick’s waist, and he moved so that their dicks pressed against each other, both just has hard behind their clothes. 

Rick shuddered and thrust against him. Daryl had to pull away from Rick’s mouth to suck in air, half afraid he had a completely stupid fucking look on his face as he bit his lip to keep himself quiet. Rick buried his mouth in the curve of Daryl’s neck and shoulder and Daryl felt his cock throb when Rick bit at him through his clothes. They quickly established a rhythm, grinding against each other, occasionally kissing and moaning with no air into the other’s mouth, kissing until they weren’t really even kissing anymore, just sharing breath.

Daryl shuddered when Rick’s hand moved around to his front again, undoing his belt and unzipping his trousers a little awkwardly, fumbling a little at trying to do it one-handed and backwards. He got there in the end and Daryl’s barely breathed, “Rick” sent Rick pushing his own dick into Daryl’s leg, thrusting against him again and wrapping his fist around Daryl’s dick. It was a little too tight, and a little dry, but it was also perfect.

Rick was very clearly in charge. Daryl found himself just hanging on, wanting to get his own hands on Rick but too overwhelmed with Rick’s heavy, drugging kisses and the slightly surreal shock of what they were doing and where they were doing it to respond like he wanted to. 

Daryl shook his bangs out of his eyes, then gripped Rick’s forearm, not stopping him, but enjoying the play of muscles under his skin. An idea struck, and Daryl leaned forward, turning so his mouth was near Rick’s ear. 

“I’ve wanted to suck you off for a fuckin’ age. You don’t even know how many times I’d jerk myself off in that stupid fucking prison bed and just wish you’d come in and catch me.” 

Rick froze. Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl saw his blue eyes going very, very wide. 

Daryl licked his lips a little nervously, feeling completely out of his depth, but no less intense for all his nervousness. He gave his hips a little nudge forward, feeling his khakis drop to his ankles. He fucked into Rick’s hand and Rick jerked his hand away, spitting into it, starting again like the nudge had reminded him what his hand was supposed to be doing. 

“I wish we had the room to do this right.” Daryl lost his nerve then, pressing his forehead into Rick’s shoulder, moving his hand to grip his ass. Rick thrust forward with a little circular hip movement, and his breathing sped up enough that Daryl could tell that his hands on Rick was gonna send him over soon. “I’d... I’d...” He trailed off, feeling his balls tighten and the pressure to come increase. 

Rick groaned low and Daryl felt the other man’s hand tighten slightly, thumbing over the slit of Daryl’s cock with his now-wet thumb, jerking him a little frantically. Rick’s other hand cupped the back of Daryl’s neck and he moved so that they were looking directly into each other’s eyes as they fell apart, shuddering together. Dimly, he was aware of the feel of Rick coming, still in his jeans, against Daryl’s thigh. 

Then, like flipping a switch, Daryl noticed all at once that the noise from outside had escalated. He hadn’t even heard them. He pulled back, heart still thudding hard in his chest with adrenaline, horrified that he would lose control so completely. Rick had shut his eyes and was biting his lip.

The gunshot caused both of them to freeze. Rick’s eyes flew open and Daryl dove for his khakis, jerking them up and doing everything up so quickly that he almost guillotined his dick in the zipper. 

There were six shots in all. By the time they both heard the very familiar _snikkkt_ of Michonne’s sword cutting through the air and the thud of a head dropping to the linoleum they had managed to clean up as best they could, ignoring the way they were both gasping for air. Daryl couldn’t help the quick kiss he brushed against Rick’s lips before settling back on “his side” of the... closet? Cabinet? Whatever they were stuck in. He bit both of his lips as he tried not to bust a gut laughing at the absolutely ridiculous situation in which they now found themselves.

“Shit. I don’t see them. Maybe they’re in the closet?” 

Okay, even Rick started laughing at that. From what Daryl could see in the dim light, it looked like he was gonna give himself an aneurysm trying to laugh silently. Rick didn’t bother biting his lips, instead biting the back of his hand, shoving a good bit of it in his mouth to muffle his snorts of laughter. It was the hand that had had Daryl’s come on it. That made Daryl’s hysteria ratchet up even more and he collapsed against the shelf with a pained yelp, trying to rid himself of the filthy image of what _else_ Rick could take in his mouth like that.

“We’re in here!” Rick yelled as he removed the wrench, still snickering quietly to himself. 

The sound of the door rolling open was a relief, but Daryl was too busy giggling into the crook of his arm to thank them. He did catch the way Michonne’s steady gaze looked from Rick, to Daryl, and back to Rick again, taking in everything from their flushed faces to the way it was more than obvious exactly what they had been doing in the tiny space before settling on rolling heavenward in exasperation. 

Glenn, who was completely spattered with blood and gore, tilted back the bill of his hat, cocking his head a little in confusion. “What’s so funny? You two were darn lucky to find that storage container, or we wouldn’t have made it down here in time.” 

Daryl did the thing where he tried to look like he wasn’t about to laugh outright. He huffed a breath through his nose, bit the inside of his cheek, then forced himself into some semblance of seriousness. It helped that Glenn was looking around at the walkers, and Michonne was having some sort of seriously heavy eye communication with Rick. Michonne managed to convey the secret code for ‘dude you still have come all over yourself’, with absolutely no problems.

“Right. Well, I think that Glenn and I should head back. You and Rick should probably just finish checking all this area for ... ah. Whatever you needed to check.” 

“But we already--”

Michonne stepped on Glenn’s foot so that he broke off speaking with an awkward squawk. “--because maybe we missed something. You two good here by yourself?”

Even Glenn started to give her the hairy eyebrow at that. Protocol rarely had them splitting up, even after a building had been cleared. Michonne wiped off her sword and put it away, heaving the cans in her backpack, lips twitching.

“We are. Right Daryl?”

“Hmm.” Daryl who decided that he wouldn’t be looking anyone in the eye for any reason whatsoever in the near future, turned to start checking bodies for anything useful. They’d long gotten over any squeamishness with taking what they needed from the dead. It wasn’t like they needed it anymore. It also had the added bonus of putting him in between Rick and the other two, so hopefully Glenn wouldn’t pick up on the wet patch on Rick’s jeans. 

Daryl coughed, trying to hide a laugh. Maybe it was the relief of being alive. Maybe it was that the fantasy and reality of being with Rick had merged into something that, for all it was quick and dirty, was hardly the furtive experiences Daryl had had before. Either way, he realized he felt... good. Something very close to happy. 

He and Rick waited until Michonne and Glenn left... loudly... before acknowledging each other. 

“We good?”

Rick was obviously trying to sound relaxed. Even Daryl could see that he was nervous as fuck. 

“Yeah.” Daryl saw Rick’s quick, small grin before he turned to scavenge in the cabinet they’d been staying in, finding a large can of what looked like ravioli and a smaller one of tapioca pudding. Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Hell, if I had known that was what was poking me in the ass, I would have come a lot sooner.” 

Rick snorted a laugh at that, like Daryl knew he would. With what Michonne had stuffed in her bag, their group would be eating well tonight. 

The two of them managed to make their way back to camp, stopping only once for Rick to itch a little frantically at the dried mess on his crotch, giving Daryl a mock-pissed look when he smirked. Later, ten feet from the camp, Rick nudged Daryl affectionately with his shoulder. Daryl realized then that things hadn’t really changed, despite the exchange of mutual orgasms. Not to say that Daryl was for damn sure lookin’ forward to the next time they had some time alone.

He and Rick were still Daryl and Rick, ready to take on whatever threatened their little family, no matter what. They could figure out anything else this crazy life threw at them the same way they’d always done: together.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for commenting and the concrit, either here or on [tumblr](http://1lostone.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> Thanks to **FoxyK** for the beta of something that wasn't even in her fandom. Mistakes are mine, because I can't stop fiddling.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [For a Fuckin' Age](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824890) by [Ezabungles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezabungles/pseuds/Ezabungles)




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